The Strange Tale of Nature's Novelties
by Ofaloaf
Summary: An attempt to write about "realistic" Pokemon, starting with the discovery of them by Captain Cook in the 1770s. Somewhat inspired by Harry Turtledove's "A Different Flesh" and the snootloads of takes on realistic Pokemon on deviantart.
1. Chapter 1

"Mister Clerke, what is that racket on the deck?" demanded James Cook, onboard the _HMS Endeavour_, walking into the fierce sunlight of the South Pacific. He, like most of the crew, had been having a poor time trying to sleep the past few nights near these uncharted isles, and was in a particularly foul mood. Ever since land had been sighted, crewmembers had begun seeing strange things. Seaman Gray continued to swear up and down that he had seen a real sea serpent two days before, while the Littleboy brothers both claimed to have seen a creature on the mainland breathing _fire_. To calm everybody down and to finally solve the mystery once and for all, Cook had sent a party of men to the nearest island in the archipelago to survey the land and see for themselves if anything strange inhabited the area.

"The landing party is back, sir, and they've brought something with them!" replied the midshipman excitedly. Looking past him, Cook could spot the party, with several men carefully unloading a cage from the boat onto the deck. Before he could get a closer look, Solander and Banks, the ship's naturalist and a member of the Royal Society, respectively, rushed up to him.

"Jim, it's amazing!" gushed Joseph Banks. "I've never seen anything like it! This creature—well, here, I'll show you." Grabbing Cook by the arm, the botanist charged through the mess of crewmen to the mysterious cage, with Solander, the naturalist, in tow. "I was inspecting these fascinating fruit-bearing trees- they seemed to carry these enormous gooseberry-like things, but- oh, I do get sidetracked!"

"Anyways, I suddenly heard this loud sound like a discharge from a voltaic pile, followed by the smell of burnt hair, and I looked around and I saw this peculiar little creature--" Pointing at the cage, which Cook now realized was covered, Banks continued. "…scuttling towards one of the berries which had fallen down somehow."

"When it spotted me, it merely growled at me and barked this strange bark, before- I assure you I am not joking- it had _sparks fly from its head_." The Royal Society member looked wide-eyed at Cook, expecting him to show shock and curiosity at his story.

Cook let out a brief snort of laughter. "Come now," he said, "How can any creature generate electrical sparks by itself?"

Frustrated by his skepticism, Banks snapped back "Dammit, Jim! I'm a botanist, not an electrical natural philosopher! How would I know? Here, have a look for yourself!" With a flourish of his hand he pulled the rough cover off the top of the cage, revealing the surprised creature underneath. Adjusting quickly, the animal attempted to attack the men surrounding it, indeed emitting small sparks from its face, which only managed to strike the cage bars and dissipate.

Cook turned to the botanist, and with an abashed look on his face apologized. "It seems you were right in your story, no matter how fanciful it seemed. I fear this makes the crewmen's stories seem all the more likely, however. Something here may prove to be a _real_ danger to us all, and for that I am thankful we have not been hurt so far. With further study, though, these creatures may prove to be a breakthrough in the study of biology!" At that, the small animal in the box let out another bark and again let out another static discharge. Frowning, Cook wondered aloud: "It sounds almost like that thing speaks a word when it barks. Utter gibberish, of course, but it almost sounds like _something_. Oh, if only I could say it right!"

"Pikachu," answered the stoic Carl Solander.


	2. Chapter 2

"…So you see, gentlemen, naming it the 'Volta Pika' was actually a far more appropriate name than Banks and Solander originally thought," concluded the member speaking in front of the Royal Society. Thus ending his part of the meeting for the night, he and some assistants quickly pulled the dissection table off the platform, allowing Joseph Banks himself to return to the platform.

"Thank you, Doctor Samuel…" Banks peered down at his notes. "…Oak." _And now for the _real_ business of the day_, he thought grimly. Putting aside his notes, he slowly walked forward towards the podium, and to the throng of men waiting to listen below. "It has come to my attention," he said, deliberate and loud, "that some members of the Society who have had the luck to obtain live specimens of the creatures found in the Prodigy Archipelago have begun to commit… poor acts of judgment." The crowd below Banks stirred uncomfortably in their seats.

"I have heard rumors from… reliable sources, that some gentlemen, having not been on genial terms with some others, have turned to their newfound 'pets,'" he snorted at the term, "as a source of aggression. There has been one case reported in the papers already of gentlemen dueling not with swords or pistols, oh no!, but with these rare and invaluable beasts who are instrumental in our new discoveries into the inner workings of life's creations." He paused, glaring now at the squirming men below. "This is purely unacceptable behavior!"

One person in the back stood up. Banks faintly recognized the Fellow as the nephew or grandson of the doctor who had just spoken. "I must disagree with the president," declared Gerry- or was it Geoff?- to the assembled throng. "These creatures of Prodigy, these, these… _Prodgimonsters_-" Banks sighed inwardly at the youth's use of the term picked up by the papers lately- "have shown a remarkable resilience to all forms of harm from each other and nature."

"The Volta Pika entrusted to our family's care up to today's demonstration proved to be naturally aggressive to other such creatures. Small scuffles and fights between not only it's own kind, but also Hogan's _Canis Flamma_ and Brockford's _Talpa Vacuustelem_, proved commonplace. Not that such battles were actively encouraged!" he added hastily, seeing the expression on the Royal Society's president, "but the animals themselves skirmished practically all the time they were around each other when we weren't there to mind them, and even when Brockford's molette managed hit our pika with a rock- God knows how it was done without arms- little Louis recovered quickly with nary a scratch on him!"

A fair number of Fellows present began to murmur their arguments in defense of the fighting after that. Joseph Banks looked over the hall in Somerset House where the meeting had convened that day, and sighed once more.

"Gentlemen, if you please! Moving on, we also need to discuss the rumors of members selling or trading their creatures to others. I've already heard reports in France…"


	3. Chapter 3

The cold January air nipped at Jacques, yet he refused to let it force him inside. He was far too excited for such minor trivialities to make him leave, for today a special gathering was being held in the Place Louis XV—or rather, the Place de la Revolution, as it was now called. Jacques had come early that day, and so had been able to climb to the top of the pedestal where, once, a statue of King Louis XV had gravely stood. That statue was gone now, of course, gone with other signs of the old monarchy, but it gave Jacques the best view of the plaza. The solitary platform in the middle of the place, with Monsieur Guillotin's cage to the side, was the only spot in the whole area that Jacques could see that was not covered over with people by this point.

The drums began only faintly, but managed to capture Paris' attention. A hush fell over the crowd as the lone figure was marched forward, accompanied only by a small guard and the forlorn cadence of the drummer. At the steps of the platform, the figure hesitated, looking at the cage, but prodded from behind he marched to the top.

At once and as one, the people of Paris jeered. From all sides, rotten food was tossed at him and taunts filled the air. Still the lone figure maintained his poise, unmoved by the people's sheer hatred of him. His cold, stately bearing seemingly spoke to the crowd, and the throng fell silent once more.

Another man, a Revolutionary, stood on stage and began to deliver a speech. Jacques couldn't make it out, but he knew what the man was saying anyways. The figure was accused of High Treason against the nation, and having attempted to flee the country, was sentenced to death. The crowd cheered at that, but the condemned man raised a hand in a request of silence, and the people complied.

He, too, began a speech. Again, Jacques could not make out the words, but the rising and falling tone of the man's voice struck him somehow. The condemned figure looked out at the crowd imploringly, looking for sympathetic faces, but all that France would return was a cold stare. A defeated tone in the man's voice took hold, and his speech became ever quieter, forcing Jacques to strain his ears just to confirm that the man was still talking.

The Revolutionary figure that had read out the charges earlier now tapped the condemned's shoulder, and the man stopped abruptly. Sullenly, he kneeled over, and Monsieur Guillotin opened up his cage.

The giant crab-like creature that stepped out was obviously one of the _prodigeains_, that much Jacques could tell. With one of its large claws, it positioned its pincers above and below the doomed man's head. A quiet word from Guillotin, an audible _snip!_ from the claw, and the man's head fell to the ground.

The Revolutionary picked up the man's head. "Long live the Republic! _Vive la France! Vive la Revolution!_"

Citizen Louis Capet was dead.


End file.
